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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294344">To the Moon and Back</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>AU, Angst, But Not Much, Crash Landing, Deathfic, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Moonvasion arc redux, Sabotage, Tragedy, okay some comfort, what if</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 08:34:39</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,245</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26294344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Lunaris had sabotaged the Spear of Selene before sending Della back to Earth?  She doesn't survive the landing and, as a result, Donald doesn't get shot to the moon.  But that doesn't mean they won't find out about the invasion, and Della's grieving family isn't going to be as useless as Lunaris had hoped.  They're going to be ready, and they're out for revenge.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Della Duck &amp; Donald Duck, Della Duck &amp; Donald Duck &amp; Scrooge McDuck, Donald Duck &amp; Scrooge McDuck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>To the Moon and Back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Della?”  Donald’s feet couldn’t carry him fast enough as he raced to where he’d seen the Spear of Selene go down.  “Della!”  Finally, after all these years, she’d be coming home.  Forget his vacation – nothing was better than this.</p>
<p>“Della, where are you?”  He didn’t see anyone walking away from the crashed ship, and the Spear looked in rough shape.  He slowed his approach, frowning.  “Della!”  His sister was the best pilot he knew.  She didn’t land like this unless she was in trouble and that had him instantly concerned.  Maybe it was different in a rocket ship?  Something to do with the re-entry? </p>
<p>She was still in the pilot’s seat, and she was slumped against the harness.  Donald yelped in alarm as he saw her, racing to her side.  Maybe she’d just been knocked unconscious by the forces of gravity.  “Della, wake up!”  Her body was still warm, but she wasn’t moving, wasn’t breathing, and an involuntary scream of frustration tore from his throat.  “Della, come on!”  No pulse…</p>
<p>He wrestled her out of the harness, laying her down so he could start CPR.  Donald yelled for help, but there was no one near this clearing; he doubted it would come.  He kept alternating compressions with breaths until his arms were jelly and he collapsed into a heap next to her, sobbing as he gathered her into his arms.  Her head fell upon his shoulder at an odd angle and he probed her neck gently, despite the fact that she couldn’t feel it.  There it was; a clear break in her spine.  That was why.  He had no idea what had happened, but somehow, that landing or something preceding it had snapped her neck.  Even if he’d been able to bring her back, there was no telling what kind of shape she might be in.  Physical disabilities, they could have managed…and was one of her legs metal?  Seemed she’d been managing one just fine.  But how long had she been without oxygen?  How much would have been left of what made Della herself?  As much as Donald felt his heart ripping into shreds, that thought made it easier to bear.  Easier being relative, of course.  It was something like a nuclear explosion being slightly better than an asteroid strike. </p>
<p>Donald cradled Della in his lap for he didn’t know how long, stroking her hair.  As the sun began to set, he finally picked her up, carrying her back toward the mansion.  Screw his vacation now.  He needed to be with his family.</p>
<p>XXXX</p>
<p>The kids were playing one of their souped-up versions of hide-and-seek when Donald stepped into the front room, and that was one of the only things that could have warmed his heart.  He knew it would be worse later, but he’d become numb.  Self-protective mechanism, his therapist would have said.  The kids were racing in and out of different rooms, too busy to notice him, but that was for the best right now.  He caught Scrooge’s eye, and he barely had to motion before Scrooge hurried over, joining him.</p>
<p>“You should have been off on that cruise by now!” Scrooge insisted.  “The boat won’t wait in dock forever!”</p>
<p>Donald just shook his head sadly.  “Something came up.”</p>
<p>That took the edge off of Scrooge’s expression.  “What’s wrong, lad?”</p>
<p>“Come with me.”  Donald hadn’t wanted to leave Della alone, but he couldn’t exactly carry her body into the mansion, either.  He’d laid her on his bed in the houseboat, tucking her in tenderly before he’d gone in search of Scrooge.  Sure, it was only for his own comfort, but he didn’t want to just set her down like a sack of potatoes.  He took Scrooge out there, pausing in the living room.  “I saw the Spear of Selene go down, not far from here.”</p>
<p>“What?”  Scrooge jumped.  “Where?  Della could have made it back!  We cannae waste any time!”</p>
<p>“She didn’t survive the crash.”  Donald had wanted to be gentler, but in the end, it was best to just break the news.  Before Scrooge could ask any more questions, he led him into the bedroom.  “I tried to save her, but her neck was broken, she…”</p>
<p>He didn’t need to bother with any other explanations.  Scrooge wasn’t paying attention.  He had moved over to the bed, kneeling down and holding Della’s hand to his chest as tears filled his eyes.  “Oh, Della, my sweet lass…I’m so sorry.”  He kissed her forehead, murmuring to her in Gaelic.  Donald didn’t know enough of the language to know what he was saying, but they weren’t words meant for his ears anyhow.  He stepped out of the room to give the old man some privacy.</p>
<p>At least they’d be together through this.  Donald had been so angry and hurt before that he’d convinced himself Scrooge had no heart, that it wasn’t bothering him.  He’d since learned otherwise – and seeing Scrooge as devastated as he was only confirmed it.  The worst had yet to come, though.  They still had to tell the boys.  How could he break their hearts like that?  <em>Your mom finally came home, but she’s dead.</em> For a moment, he wondered if it would be better that they didn’t know.  He didn’t have to tell them about the Spear’s crash at all, and then they’d live their lives as if nothing had ever happened.  But if they ever found out…  No, he had to be honest.  No more family secrets.  And they deserved the chance to mourn their mother.  As bad as it was going to be, they’d face the pain together.</p>
<p>Scrooge came out of the bedroom later, holding a tape recorder in his hand.  The same one Della carried in her jacket pocket to record notes to herself.  “By some miracle, it still turns on.  Wherever she was, she must have saved the batteries, or found some other way to power it.”</p>
<p>“Should we listen?”  It had never been a diary, mostly just something to record her thoughts before she forgot them.  Still, had Della been alone while she was gone?  Was it a diary now?  But…it could also be her last words.  He nodded at Scrooge, making the decision.</p>
<p>Scrooge rewound the tape, then pressed play.  Della’s voice came from the tiny speaker, and it brought Donald to tears again.  It was a few seconds of her humming, only to be replaced suddenly by something else, as if the tape had been recorded over. </p>
<p>“If someone finds this…I don’t have a flight recorder on the ship anymore; had to scrap that.  My landing gear is – I don’t know, something must have messed with it, it’s not responding like it should.  Just…make sure my family knows, tell them I love them.  I couldn’t—”</p>
<p>Couldn’t what, they’d never know, because there was a loud noise and the tape cut off, soon to be replaced with the ramblings Della had recorded over.  Donald felt his sorrow being quickly replaced by rage, but not even the blind kind he usually snapped into when his family was threatened.  It was cold and incredibly calm, the dark and dangerous kind he rarely went to but had learned to tap into in his Duck Avenger days.  “We need to go over every inch of that ship.”  If it was a technical error, he could learn to live with it.  But if someone had killed his sister, they were going to pay in blood.</p>
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